trying out blogging life

Ah well they're all laughing at me because im leaving the elitism of my website to move into the virtual space and all i can think about right now is the argument i had with my friend Seamus when we were amongst ,bored,poets as is often the case in my life and he texted me a line from a verlaine poem during a reading,le ciel est pardessus le toit .he then claimed it was from Sagesse and i thought it was called Prison .None of the other poets could help us out ,but there was a lot of smiling an pretence all around,Verlaine ,voici des fruits ,des fleurs ,des feuilles et des branches et puis voici mon coeur qui ne bat que pour vous,love can bring out the best of lines in great poets....theres some snow left on the dublin mountains i ts melting ,i wish i could hear the melting an cracking of iceflows in a river again.I have become more an more fascinated by sound samples,the traffic whhhissh at night under my bedroom window the horses galloping on the asphalt to their stables or into my dreams .The clanking of a pot in the wind against the wall of the terrace ,enough to keep the night alive.Enuff ,give me time spacecompanions to get used to this